Nails And Bones With Their Broken Souls
by reginassthief
Summary: Upon arriving to a new home, eight year old Roland finds himself attracted to the basement for reasons Robin doesn't understand. Roland won't tell him what's in the basement, it's only when he passes the room does he hear a conversation before curiosity's getting the better of him, and he's finding out what exactly is in his basement and Roland's so obsessed with. OQ. DQ.
1. Chapter One

**I genuinelly hate myself for starting this but I couldn't resist. Bringing back the old horror fics. I don't know if this is cliche, it probably is but I don't care. Blame the prompt that inspired me to right this. One day my muse will go away and I'll stop being harassed by ideas that I never finish. Anyway, as usual, I hope you like this. Depending on what you say, I might carry this on so if you want to know what happens, tell me in the reviews pleeaaaseeee!**

It was a chance for a fresh start. A chance to start again. To leave old memories behind them and move on with their lives, find something new.

He didn't want to forget Marian, didn't want his son to forget his mother but her death had hit the both of them hard. Roland's grades had began slacking in school, Robin found himself becoming a deadbeat father, uncaring of what trouble his son was getting up to. Had it not been for John, he'd probably be buried alongside Marian and Roland in some foster system. It had been John who'd suggested they move house, create new memories for the two of them, begin a new life. They'd never forget Marian, she was a big part of both their lives, but they couldn't stay in the life she left behind, it was too much for the both of them.

When the offer for a house in Maine, near a small town called Storybrooke, had presented itself to Robin, he just knew he had to take it. Some gut instinct told him it was right and while it did mean moving from one side of the country to another, it felt right- a good decision in a sea of bad ones he'd made in the past year.

Roland, his son, wasn't so enthusiastic. Robin understood, this was his home, had been his home all his life, he made friends here, good friends, and now he had to leave them. It took some coaxing, a promise buying a whole new batch of stuff when they got to the house, but it had worked. Roland was packed, his room empty of his life, all eight years squished down into two small suitcases and a backpack.

It had been sad leaving, jumping in the car and slowly reversing, watching the house move further and further away but it was for the best, Robin kept telling himself. It was for the best.

And he's not disappointed when he arrives. It's definitely as big as the newspaper had said it was. A good front yard to play in, probably an excellent back on, too. Nice tall bushes to give them and the house the privacy they needed, and a sturdy iron gate. Robin was pleased. Very pleased.

On the side walk just outside the house stands a man; dressed in a suit and holding a golden lion head cane. He's grey-haired but doesn't look too old and Robin can only guess that he's the real estate agent Robin was told to contact. Well, they are quick around here, aren't they?

He opens the car door, giving a 'one minute' finger up to the agent, and opening the back seat door, nudging Roland, who had fallen asleep about an hour into their journey.

"Ar' we 'ere?" the boy asks, rubbing his eyes awake.

"We are." says Robin, with a smile, moving out of the way so Roland can get a clear view of the house.

"It's so big!" Roland exclaims, all tiredness gone from his voice. He climbs out of the car, running up to the gate and pressing his nose against the bar. Robin laughs, shutting the car door and locking it before walking over to the agent.

"Mr Locksley?" the man asks. "I'm Mr Gold, I believe we spoke on the phone."

Robin shakes the man's hand. "Yes, that's me."

"Good," Gold drops his hand. "Shall we go inside?"

They walk over to the gate and Robin pries Roland off it, telling him _We're going in now_ to which the boy's eyes light up as he grabs Robin's hand and the gate is opened.

Here they're able to take a good look at the house. For its age, it's pretty well kept, the white paint looks new, not one part peeling, it isn't overgrown with vines and the garden is well mowed. It's almost like someone lives here still, tending to its needs.

"It's well looked after," Robin comments. Roland's ran ahead now, desperate to get a luck in. Surprising for someone who didn't want to leave their old house.

"We wanted to honour the original owners," Gold says, his cane tapping alongside the pavement as they continue walking. "People often come around every so often to keep it to its former glory."

"Why?"

The man shifts uncomfortably, adjusting his grip on his cane. "We'll discuss all that inside." he says and Robin nods, looking back towards his son who's waiting on the porch.

It is curious thing as to why they would keep a house tidied up. And what was just as curious was the price of the house: Robin imagined a good $5,000 yet this had been knocked right down to $1,039, a price that had Robin unbelieving until he called up to make sure that yes, that was the price. He made a mental note to ask Gold why that was the case later.

They make the rest of the way in silence, all the way to the door to which Roland shuffles out of the way, allowing Gold to unlock it.

The inside is just as impressive as the outside. Spacious, lots of downstairs rooms. Easily to get in and out of. It was empty- almost all its furniture having being cleared out at some point but it's space definitely made it easy to get their own furniture in, something that was happening later on.

Roland's began to wander off, being drawn to a door beside him, fighting to get it open. Robin leaves him, he'll soon become bored once he can't get it open and turns to Gold instead.

"There's just one thing I want to know," Robin says. "Why is the price so low if you have people looking after the place?"

He watches Gold glance around nervously, eyes landing on Roland for a second before looking back at Robin.

"I think this conversation is best away from little boys." he says and Robin frowns, unsure what it is that can't be said in front of Roland but still, he turns back around to the boy.

"Roland, why don't you, uh, go upstairs. Choose what bedroom you want."

Roland turns away from the door, eyeing Robin suspiciously before nodding, _Okay_ , and running upstairs.

He turns back to Gold, "Go on."

"The house hasn't had many people interested. A lot of people in Storybrooke know the story and therefore won't buy the house. It's a tale, many believe, but tales do have some truth in them."

Robin feels his insides twist, biting his lip. "And what's the tale?"

The man shakes his head, a smiling breaking out, one that looks rare and only seems to happen on rare occasions.

"Well, Mr Locksley, the tale is that once a couple lived here, with their ten year old daughter and their eight year old son. A perfect couple, if you ignored their age differences but, just like most things, they weren't perfect, far from it. Not many details are given about what happened, all people know is that in that room there-" he points towards the door, the one his son was so interested in, and feels his cold run cold, his insides twist even more, stomach pooling into dead. "- The man brutally murdered his wife and their son witnessed the whole thing. The boy fled, leaving the house and never returning and the daughter, well she believed her father could do no wrong. He forbade her from ever going into the basement and told the girl that her stepmother and brother had left them. She believed him, never once questioning the story. That is my the house is so low, in an attempt to gain popularity. It's a nice house, a perfect house, but a dark past accompanies it."

Robin stands, stunned, feeling sick to his stomach at the story, his eyes stuck on the door to the basement. Was her body still down there? Was it nothing but a forgotten skeleton now? Is that why the door was locked? Maybe it was a tale after all, nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. He was a brave man, he'd heard many ghost tales as a boy and none had really scared him. Tales have truth but the husband could have easily been arrested, the woman's body easily taken out of the basement and put in the ground. Yes, there was nothing to fear.

"I'll still take the house, Mr Gold." Robin says, voice hardening. He won't be scared off by some little ghost story.

"Very well," Gold says, handling Robin the keys. "Welcome to Storybrooke."


	2. Chapter Two

**I decided to carry this on since people were interested in it. I honestly have no idea what this fic even is or how it even entered my mind but it's definitely the weirdest things I've ever wrote but you guys seem to like it so we'll all be weird together, right? As always I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think; you're reviews are what make me carrying on writing after and I'd love for more :)**

Socked feet hit against the wooden steps as Roland makes it way down the stairs. Groggy and sleepy, wanting nothing more to go back to sleep and not let this day happen.

He didn't want to go to school.

Papa had given him three days off. Well, those three days were spent organising paperwork in order for Roland to be enrolled in his new school but they were also used for him to get used to the house.

Roland liked it. Despite his hesitance to leave his old one, the moment he saw this one, saw its garden and eventually got to see the house inside, he knew he could live here.

Yet there was something about the locked room. He couldn't explain it. Like a...pull. Every time he passed it, he found himself drawn to it. At night was the worst, though. When Papa had gone to bed, Roland would wake, hearing what sounded like someone crying. He thought it was coming from outside at first but when he'd ran to his window and looked, there was nobody there. It was only when he needed the toilet did he find out that the cries were coming from downstairs.

He'd be lying if he didn't say he was a little scared but Papa had taught him to be brave, but that didn't mean he was going to go downstairs and see what it was. Instead, he'd flushed the toilet and ran back to his room, shutting the door and trying to shut the cries out.

"Come on, Roland!" Papa shouts and Roland makes the rest of his way down the steps.

It was strange without Mama, Roland wouldn't lie. Usually it would be her making him up, making his breakfast and now it was Papa doing it all. Roland didn't have an issue, it was just hard getting used to it.

He missed his mother; he feels a pain in his chest sometimes and even though Papa moved them out of the house for a fresh start, Roland didn't feel like it was a fresh start. Just the same memories in a different house.

Before he makes his way to the kitchen, his eyes catch the locked door and once again there's this pull towards it. He resists it though, feeling his stomach growling. It was locked for now, but one day he will find a way to open it and see what's down there. You never know, maybe he can turn it into his den with nobody else allowed to use it.

He pulls back the chair, sitting down in it and pulling the toast towards him. Their stuff had arrived a few hours after they had on that first day and Roland helped carrying things in from the van. Not the heavy stuff, but the small stuff, mostly his toys and bits of bedding. It help as close to home with all their things from their old house but it would never fully be a home without Mama, even at eight years old Roland knew that that was something that was never going to happen.

"Excited?" Papa asks and Roland sighs, mumbling a _Not really_.

Papa frowns, sitting down next to him. "Why not?"

Roland shrugs, munching on the bit of toast, it's not as good as Mama's and the thought makes something in his chest go _Ping!_ and start hurting but he swallows it down, along with the toast.

He knows why he's not looking forward to school, and it's for that reason; no Mama. He remember one time in first grade at his old school when a girl named Ellie had lost her Mama and all the kids and even teachers treated her weirdly. He can't remember exactly how they treated her, just knew it wasn't the same as the other kids.

Even now in third grade Roland was scared the same would happen to him.

Yet Papa isn't giving up it seems, leaning in and talking in that silly voice. "Come on, Roland, you can tell me."

He doesn't, though. "I'm just nervous," he says, throwing his crust into his mouth.

Papa moves away, standing up and grabbing his plate. "It'll be fine. You'll make lots of new friends and maybe even invite them over one day."

Roland just smiles, ignoring that feeling in his stomach.

That's if he even makes any friends once they find out his lack of mother. Children were supposed to have mother's in their lives and it was weird if you didn't.

.:.:.:.:.:.

Robin hasn't missed the way Roland will stare at that door. He hasn't missed the way he's tried to open it, pulling on the door handle, putting his finger in the keyhole to see if that will open it. The key must be somewhere, right? It's not on the keychain Gold gave him but somebody locked it so there must be a key.

Yet, Robin hasn't forgotten the story. Whether he believes it or not, he's not entirely sure he wants that basement door open. He definitely doesn't want Roland finding a way to open it and being horrified at what he discovers. _If_ there is anything to discover. Robin hopes not, he still has some junk and not a lot of places to put it, the basement would be a perfect place.

Perhaps he'll look for the key after he takes Roland to school. Or maybe he'll take a walk over to Gold's office, grab a coffee along the way and see if he knows where the key is. Yes, that's what he'll do.

For now, however, he's focusing on getting Roland ready. His boy isn't his usual self and while Roland told him he was just nervous about his first day, Robin can't help but think that it's something more. Still, he didn't know what to do so he just left it, Roland will tell him in his own time...he hopes.

Robin thought he could do this single parent stuff. Thought he could handle it and he can, he knows he can, but when Roland closes off like this, it's then he wishes for Marian; wishes she was here to get him to open up. She was always good at getting Roland to open up.

But that was for another day. Right now, it's buttoning coats and grabbing school bags, ready for the day ahead.

Robin was told that the town was either a five minute drive or a fifteen minute walk. He decides to walk. They'd saved time by twenty-five minutes, surprisingly and perhaps a walk would do them both the good.

He was glad he picked here to live. The people were pleasant enough, the town was quiet and had all the essentials. Robin was a happy man, or as happy as he could be.

He and Marian had always talked about moving to a place like this. Their old house was nice but it was busy and every so often there were arguments in the middle of the street from the young couple who lived a few doors up from them. It wasn't terrible but it wasn't a place they wanted to stay. They never got to move away, sadly, and some part of this moving lark doesn't feel right without Marian. Still, it was for the best and Roland seems content enough.

"Do you wonder what's down in the basement?"

The story replays in his head; the murdered wife, the runaway son, the oblivious daughter. It's a mystery. Was she ever found? Was he ever caught? Was the son ever found? Did the daughter ever find out the truth? Maybe it was a cold case and if so, it'll be lost in the files underneath the station. Maybe there was never enough evidence found to pinpoint the husband as the murderer and it was just assumed that he'd killed her.

Or maybe it was all tales, not one word of it true. Yet, for some reason, it screamed the truth to Robin. That something did happen in that basement in that house and Roland knows it, he doesn't understand it, but perhaps there's something in that room and Roland's drawn to it.

"Do you?"

Roland falls quiet, shrugging. "It'll be nice to open it." is all he says.

 _Yes, it would_.

Once they reach the school, together they make their way to the entrance. There's a hello from the principle and Roland's new teacher has came to say hi, to tell Robin that his son will be welcomed here and fully looked after. Robin just nods, waving one last goodbye to his son for the next seven hours as Roland his guided to his classroom.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

"You want the keys to the basement?"

Robin nods. It's his house, he paid for it, he has every right to ever key that belongs to the house.

"I want to use the basement for storage," he says.

"Even after what I told you?"

"It's just a story," Robin replies, trying to believe the words himself, trying to keep that gnawing bit that tells him the story is true quiet. "So unless you have something to hide..."

"No, no, of course not." says Gold, standing up from his seat and walking over to the glass cabinet filled with hundreds of keys. Robin wonders what they're all for. He imagines most are spares, in case their tenants lose them.

The man taps the glass and it's almost like magic the ways it opens, the glass screen spinning to the side as Gold reaches inside a pulls out a small, rounded key, before tapping the glass once more and the case locking.

"I just finding it surprising," he says, hobbling back over to the desk. "That after hearing the story, one would want to see what's down there. We keep it locked for a reason after all."

For a second, Robin wonders if telling the man about Roland's efixiation with the door means anything but he decides against it. Roland's just a curious little boy, once he sees that nothing is down there, he'll obsession will leave. But _not_ after he's been down there himself.

"I can't be scared forever by a tale, Mr Gold." Robin says, standing up- he stands taller than the man, he notes.

"Very well, Mr Locksley," Gold says, dropping the little key into Robin's hand when he outstretches it. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

Robin places the key into his pocket, with the whole intention of finding out exactly what happened in that basement.


	3. Chapter Three

**This is just meh. It's not my best but idk what to do with it. I see it as one of the worst things I've written and I guess that should mean I should rewrite it but I'm lazy and can't do this likes that so I'm giving this to you as it is. Hope you like it even with its shittyness.**

The clock ticks on the wall- the only noise heard throughout the whole house. He's got an hour before he needs to collect Roland and he's spent an hour staring at the key.

It's old. Unlike the house keys- all modern and square shaped- these keys are skeleton keys; red and rusting, the base is heart while the end is square. It seems they updated the house locks but never the basement's.

But the question that's been plaguing him is why they keys were never given to him in the first place. Gold may have told Robin the story but that was only by Robin's prompted question.

He glances another look at the clock, his time slowly running out. If he wants to do this and open the door, he best do it now or wait until tomorrow.

So with a sigh, he pushes himself away from the table, picking up the keys and making his way to the door. There's a little apprehension when he gets there. A little uncertainty, his heart beating that tiny bit faster. Robin ignores it, however, it won't be the first time in his life he's came across a dead body and neither is it the first time it's been that of a skeleton, he's never had this feeling before at a crime scene and well, isn't that just what this is? Only it's cold and possibly unsolved.

Shaking his fears away, he places the key into the slot and no surprise, it fits. With one last intake of breath and preparing himself for the worst, Robin twists the key towards the wall, hearing the click of the lock as the door squeaks open.

The light from above illuminates the, what Robin assumes, usually dark room. There's no bulb hanging down, just some old 18th century gas lantern stuck to the wall.

The light from the hall only extends to a few of the stone steps leading down, leaving the last three or four smothered in darkness. It doesn't exactly help the uncomfortable feeling in Robin's stomach as he'd hoped the light would lead to the floor so he didn't get the shock of his life confronting a skeleton (no matter how much you prepare yourself for the sight, it still manages to take you jump back) It also hoped there would be a working bulb or something.

Robin reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and searching for the torch light. He shines it into the room and...nothing. The space in front of him is empty thank god but that doesn't mean the bones can't be elsewhere.

With another breath, he steps down onto the stone, light out guiding his way, his feet fall, one step after another, down and down until he's on the final step and it able to look around.

The basement isn't big, he realises. Enough space for his junk but it's just a square room. Two alcoves with a wall facing the steps that blocked off his view around the corners but other than that, nothing.

As Robin moves the torch around the room; walls, ceilings, he notes the amount of cobwebs, some that have multiple (dead) spiders on them. A few bugs that litter the floor, but as he rounds the right-hand alcove, his heart beats in two for a second, a shiver running through his body as if there's a sudden change in temperature.

He stands a few feet away where it assumingly happened. A blotch of dark covers a small section of the wall and falls onto a much bigger patch on the floor. Robin wanders over to it, crouching down and shining the light on the wall and floor and yes, it's blood. Dark red and old. This is where it happened. There's no body, no bones, perhaps someone came to pick them up, but they never painted the walls, never did anything.

He should feel sick, perhaps. Have a need to get out of there. But Robin's spent time in multiple crime scenes, saw galleons of blood; dry, still wet. What he feels is a sadness for the woman. She died here, possibly alone. Was it quick? Or was she just left to die there, slowly and painfully?

Robin looks behind him, to where the wall begins. With a frown, he pulls himself up, walking over to the spot and looking directly at the wall. Is this where the boy stood? Intrigued by the shouts maybe, he made his way down the stairs and stood here, watching his father kill his mother before scurrying away, scurrying away forever.

He walks back over to the wall, the dust covered blood stain. Paint. Carpet. Cover it up and hide it away. He glances around the room once more. Dust it. Vacuum it. Change it into storage.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

"You opened it?" Roland asks, rounding the corner. He'd been watching his cartoons when the sound of things dragging across the floorboards and Papa's huffing and puffing had distracted him.

"Yeah," says Papa, lifting up a small box that Roland recognises as his old toy box. "Mr Lyons gave me the key earlier today."

The boy eyes the basement, open and silent. He remembers back to the previous nights, the crying coming from there.

"Was there anyone down there?" he asks when his father reappears back up the stairs.

"No," Papa says, frowning. "Why did you think someone was down there?"

Roland quickly shakes his head. "No reason," he answers, planning to go back into the front room and continue with his cartoons.

"Roland," Papa says, firmly. "Why would there be someone down there?"

He shrugs, mumbling a _I don't know_ and Papa sighs, grabbing hold of the broken lawn mower. "I just thought there might've been. Like in the stories."

He hears Papa's laughter from down stairs and wanders over to the door. There's once again that pull he's felt since coming here and now that the door was open, it seemed stronger.

"Well, there's nobody down here," shouts Papa. "Nothing but an empty room. Sort of."

Roland laughs a little, mutters a _Yeah_ before reaching over and grabbing the box with a few old books in there and making his way down the stairs himself.

"Helping me?" Papa asks, and Roland nods. As Papa goes back upstairs, Roland puts the box on the floor. He looks towards the other corner, the source of were that pull is coming from. It's like when they learned magnets at school and the way the two position magnets were pulled together.

And it takes all his might not to shout.

She's huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around her legs much like Roland used to do when he was scared. She looks asleep but he's not sure and her hair is tatty and needs a brush and her white dress isn't so white anymore.

Roland just stares, it's rude to stare, Mama told him once, but he can't help it. There _is_ someone down here.

"Roland?" Papa shouts, coming down the stairs.

Roland doesn't say anything back. He doesn't want to scare the girl, she could be bad and hurt him.

"Roland?" Papa shouts again. "Roland, you need you answer me." Roland turns, finding his papa standing by the wall.

"Roland, are you alright?" concern passes Papa's face as he nears him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He feels cold, numb, but he turns back to where the girl is and his eyes widen. She's not there anymore. It's just empty.

"Come on," says Papa, reaching over to grab Roland's arm. "We'll sort the rest out later."

Still staring at the spot, unsure if what he saw was even there, he lets Papa guide him up the stairs.

All through the rest of the night, his only thoughts are of the girl and later, when he when he wakes, he hears the crying. He can't explain it. It hurts his head whenever he thinks about it. Papa said nobody was down there. But there was! He saw it and hears it every night. One day, he'll go down there himself, when Papa isn't around and he'll find out what exactly this girl wants.


End file.
